It is needless to say that the letter which had so suddenly arrested the
threatened tragedy at Fort Constitution, was from Ellen Gansevoort. Her
situation was perilous in the extreme. A prisoner among the most lawless
of men, she was held, as has been said, in pledge for the safety of
Bender, and was threatened, in the event of his execution, with being
carried into remote captivity. A detachment of Indians, belonging to a
western tribe, formed part of her captors, and on the fourth ensuing day
were to set out on their return to the wilderness, with her, or without,
as the fate of Bender should decide. It is unnecessary to say that Wiley
was the agent in this infernal transaction. Horror-struck at the arrest
of his patron, his terror had given way only to the most vindictive
anger toward his supposed dupe, Gansevoort. He knew well the
extraordinary affection which that gentleman entertained for his sister,
and had also some intimation of Count De Zeng’s attachment to Ellen.
With the desperate hope of aiding Sir Philip, for whose arrest he
considered himself responsible, he had concocted, and, with unrelenting
barbarity, carried into effect, the plot which has been detailed; and
which his intimate connection with the Tories of Westchester county had
afforded him every facility for consummating. His hand had forged the
letter which had deceived Miss Gansevoort, and he had been her companion
in the carriage. In the further execution of his plan, he had been
compelled to disclose himself to his prisoner. But, although it was his
exorcism that had conjured up the storm which now impended over the
unfortunate Ellen, he had not the power to control its fury. The
savages, whose services had been engaged, had been secured by the
promise of a large reward from Major Bender, if released, or the person
of their prisoner, if the project failed. Wiley had not the means, if he
had had the disposition, to purchase her release in the event of
failure. It was therefore no idle threat which had been made.
The substance of these facts was briefly communicated in Ellen’s letter
to her brother, which was written at the request of Wiley, and by him
forwarded to Gansevoort. In this he proposed to send Ellen, at once, in
safety to the fort, upon receiving a written promise from the
commander-in-chief to pardon Sir Philip. Miss Gansevoort expressed her
belief that there was no reasonable hope of her rescue, owing to the
wild and almost inaccessible nature of the fastnesses among which her
captors were lurking. Her language betrayed inadvertently the anguish of
fear which overwhelmed her, and which, in pity to her friends, she would
fain have concealed. The startling effect produced by this letter on
Colonels Gansevoort and De Zeng, will no longer be considered
surprising; or that all other considerations were immediately lost sight
of in so engrossing a subject. To them the safety of Ellen was a matter
of paramount moment; and had they possessed the power to procure her
release by the discharge of Bender, his shackles would have melted at a
breath. But, alas! such was not the case. An immediate sally was
earnestly urged by De Zeng, in pursuit of the brigand force; but this,
without a guide, without any clew to the hiding-places of the enemy, who
had their choice of a hundred impregnable positions among the mountains,
would have been but wasting time, and rendering the situation of the
captive still more perilous. The inflexible character of the
commander-in-chief, in matters pertaining to the welfare of the country,
left them but little hope that he would sacrifice its interests to any
private consideration. But there was no time to be lost in deliberation;
and De Zeng himself set out on the same evening, with a small guard, for
Washington’s quarters. His route lying exclusively through a friendly
region, he was enabled to obtain frequent relays of horses, and, by dint
of hard riding, arrived at the camp soon after daylight on the ensuing
morning. He did not hesitate to disturb the slumbers of the commander
with a message, begging an instant audience. In the fewest words he had
put General Washington in possession of all the facts, and pale with
fatigue, and trembling with anxiety, stood watching the working of his
countenance, to catch the first glimpses of a decision which he knew
would be final. Benevolence gleamed from the commander’s eye, but a
stern compression of his lips foreshadowed his reply. It was impossible,
he said, to compromise the interests of the whole country for a single
life, however precious. Bender’s guilt was unmitigated. The example of
his punishment must be made. Similar attempts at corruption on the part
of the British government had become frequent, and unless checked by
some signal act, might be productive of the most disastrous
consequences. In vain did the count, with all the earnestness of
impassioned feeling, plead the cause of poor Ellen and her distracted
brother. A calm rebuke from the commander reminded him that he also
possessed the feelings of benevolence common to humanity, but that his
decision, painful as it was, had been well weighed, and could not be
altered.
After a brief repose, De Zeng, with a heavy heart, prepared to return;
but, in the meantime, a second messenger had arrived from the fort,
bearing a dispatch for the count. It was from Sir Philip Bender himself,
and had been forwarded by permission of Gansevoort. It enclosed a letter
to Gen. Washington, in which the prisoner proposed not only the release
of Ellen, but also the surrender of his coadjutor, Wiley, to procure his
own pardon. He boldly asserted that he had the means to bring about
these results. Wiley was well known at head-quarters as a desperate and
daring man, whose connection both with the British army at New York, and
with the Tories in the river counties, rendered him a formidable
adversary. His bitter hatred of the republicans, the frequency and
facility of his disguises, and his utter disregard of every principle of
honorable warfare, made him a valuable auxiliary to the enemy, and, not
infrequently, a real scourge to the patriots. To accomplish his arrest,
scarcely any sacrifice would have been considered inordinate. His life
was trebly forfeited even before the affair of Fort Constitution, in
which he had prostituted the sacred character of a flag to the most vile
and corrupt of purposes.
General Washington avowed his utter disbelief in Bender’s ability to
fulfill his engagement, which he considered probably a _ruse_ to gain
time. He, however, to the great delight of Count De Zeng, accepted the
proposition; and the latter, with renewed hope, but with many misgivings
set out on his return.